If I Had Just
by AndAnotherOneBitesTheDust
Summary: A tribute to Stoneman Douglas Highschool. Read it if you want. WARNING: Triggers for school shooting. (Cover Art isn't mine)


A/N: A few days ago 17 people died in a school shooting in Broward County, Florida. Stoneman Douglas Highschool lost two teachers and fifteen students after a 19-year-old student ( **in the JROTC** ) opened fire in the school. He pulled the fire alarm to get students out of class then went to kill two teachers. I'm not sure if the two teachers who lost their lives were the intended targets, but I know that when students began screaming "Gun fire!" the student panicked and opened fire on his fellow students. In a nearby elementary school, a little girl was learning how to write her name. While a teacher taught a little girl how to write her name, that teacher's son was in the highschool, bleeding to death. That boy died while his mom taught a little girl her written name.

This story will include an OC for... Whazzit... drama? More emotion? Forgot the word, but. Oh, well.

Her info is in the End Author's Note.

Review, please.

* * *

 **If I Had Just...**

Jason sighed, tapping his gun on a drug peddler's chest. This guy—Harry Korsh—was being rather difficult, and Jason had to go pick up Zee from school in fifteen minutes.

"Look—Harry, buddy—I get that you're afraid to tell me your boss' name, but what you should be **more** afraid of is the dude with a gun on your chest and a rep for murder. So. You choose. A maybe death, or a definite, **painful** , death." Leaning into Korsh's personal space, Jason moved so that where his mouth would be was next to his left ear. "I'd hurry up if I were you."

Three minutes later and Jason-still decked out in full Red Hood ensemble-is running and jumping across rooftops to make it _on time_ to pick up his daughter. If he's late again "I'm not talking to you for two days" and his daughter is kinda, _maybe_ , his only normal social interaction in a day, so.

He feels his phone vibrate and pauses before jumping across to the next rooftop, pulling out his phone.

Jason smiled.

His daughter had texted.

 **2 SMS from: Zee-Bee**

 **Zee-Bee: Dad, there's a kid wearing his JROTC uniform... There's no meetings today, and he's got a black duffel with him. I mean, if that's not weird…**

 **Zee-Bee: SHIT DAD HE PULLED OUT AN ar-15**

Jason's blood ran cold and he slid his phone in his pocket, picking up the pace a shit ton of notches. Hell, he's fucking sprinting like a bat out of hell to get there.

 _If she gets hurt, I'm never letting her go to private school again. Much less Gotham Academy. Damnit how'd she even convince me it was a good idea in the first place?_

Cursing the wound in his calf, Jason pushed his body's limits. He knew he was close when he heard the wailing sirens of the GCPD squad cars.

When the school came into view—more like when Jason was physically standing on the building—Jason yanked out his phone again.

 **SMS To: Zee-Bee**

 **You: Where**

 **Zee-Bee: I'm in the Gym with a few other kids.**

 **You: And the kid with the gun?**

 **Zee-Bee: He's outside**

Jason's heart fluttered in his chest. _That motherfucker is way too close._

 **Zee-Bee: Dad, please. Hurry. I…**

 **Zee-Bee: Daddy, I'm scared.**

Gritting his teeth, Jason rushed down the side of the school. The gym is all the way on the other side of the campus, and Jason needs to make sure nobody has died, though he's hoping that there is maybe one kid bleeding out so that he has a reason to shoot the kid dead.

 _Damn it._

Ignoring the cops, Jason charged into the school. The first things he finally noticed were the fire alarms screaming throughout the school. The sound filled Jason's ears but he ignored the rattling. He needs to find Zaida.

He needs to make sure she's safe.

Sprinting down empty hallways, Jason absolutely freezes when he rounds a corner and almost trips on a body.

A fucking body, and the kid can't be older than fourteen, still bleeding on the ground. The kid's eyes are glazed over and her chest doesn't move. For a second Jason just can't **breathe** because the girl just looks so much like Jason's baby girl that— **oh** _ **God**_ **it's not her** —he needs to remind himself that his little girl is _**safe**_ —an unappreciated voice in his head adds: for now—in the gym.

Steadying his breath, Jason tears his gaze off the girl only to be met with the sight of two additional bodies sprawled on the ground. One of them—a boy—collapsed against the lockers as he fell, leaving one long trail of blood in an arc to follow his path of descent… And, _shit_ , Jason nearly had a heart-attack at the sight of the second girl beside the boy who looked _even more_ like his baby girl than the first one did, but he forces himself to keep moving.

Because Zee's still alive.

She is.

She _is_.

Jason took all the damn short cuts he could remember from his time in the highschool when his legs worked enough that he was practically fucking flying down the halls. He had to get to Zee before that bastard with a gun could. If he doesn't…

NO.

No, he'll get there. He shouldn't think about what-if's.

In his ear, Jason's comm. crackled to life.

' _Nightwing to Red Hood.'_

Growling, Jason activated his mic. "Go." Jason shoved the double-doors open and they hit the walls with matching **'bang'** sounds. _Just two more sets of doors…_

' _There's a situation at Gotham Academy…'_

"You're a bit fuckin' _late_ Dickwad," Jason snapped. "Z texted me. I'm already here, and if you goodie-goodies don't show up soon, the idiot with a gun's getting a new hole in his head. I fucking **swear it.** "

' _Hood. Don't do anything brash, there haven't been any—'_

"Three dead that I've counted. **Three teenagers who won't go back home. One of them could have been my** _ **kid**_ **, N.** _ **This son-of-a-bitch is getting a bullet through his brain the second I see him.**_ " Jason turned off his communicator, ripping off his helmet and tossing the comm. link on the ground. One of those kids could have been _**HIS**_ and just the thought makes his adrenaline pump faster and his anger and fear escalate. The fact that he might not make it… The fact that if he had just stuck with his guns and told Z no to going to _any_ school—public or private—she wouldn't be in this situation and he wouldn't be so fucking _**afraid**_ …

Jason gritted his teeth. He skidded around a corner and threw open the final set of double-doors separating him from his daughter. Joy flooded his veins at the thought that he was finally going to see his baby girl; he was finally going to make sure she was okay and _could keep her that way_ , as the doors parted.

 **BANG! BA-ANG!**

 **THWIP-PRAT-TA-TA!**

The world had played a cruel joke.

Screams filed Jason's ears, following the sounds of gunfire.

Everything slows down as soon as Jason can enter the gymnasium. He sees the kid with the uniform holding a smoking ar-15 in his right and. The gun is pointed up, but the kid's looking at the crowd of people screaming and running out the back doors of the gym. Jason's pistols whip out in front of him and he aims at the ki— _shooter_ 's head. The shooter whips his body around to face Jason. Eyes widening, the shooter tries to get his gun out quickly, but Jason's fingers are faster when they pull the triggers.

The shooter's head snaps back and his body collapses on the ground. The gun fires off wildly and a bullet catches Jason's ribcage.

Jason's eyes widen at the burst of pain because that could only mean one thing.

This kid was shooting armor-piercing rounds.

Gritting his teeth, Jason forces himself to look around the gym and make sure nobody other than himself was injured by the spray of bullets.

That's when he sees the bodies.

One, two, three, four, five, six, and Jason can't bring himself to count the rest.

He can't, because his heart's in his throat, strangling him and making it nearly impossible to breathe.

His eyes scan the bodies before landing on an all-too familiar figure curled into herself and around someone else on the ground.

Jason's frozen to the spot before he makes his way over to the two with trembling legs.

* * *

 _Jason's just finished making breakfast, setting the food down on the table._

" _Hey daddy! Does this look good to you?"_

 _He looks up to see his daughter wearing her uniform—a white blouse, red and white striped tie, black skirt, and black flats—and a navy blazer. What she's probably asking about, though, is the shock of green she's dyed the normally white locks in her hair._

 _Jason raises a brow. "Green this time?"_

 _Zaida grins back at him. "Yep!" she responds, popping the 'p' in the word. "Blue doesn't look good and purple's just, no. Pink is a hell no, and I did black last week." As she explains her reasoning, Zee plops into one of the chairs surrounding the island in the kitchen._

 _The father shakes his head with a chuckle, taking his own seat beside her. "I don't see why you can't just leave it white. I_ do _make it look fucking awesome, though."_

 _Zee rolled her eyes teasingly. "Uh-huh. Whatever you need to tell yourself dad." Jason relishes in the laugh she releases at his indignant sound. "And white gets boring. Your hair is a darker red than mine too, so it looks better."_

" _A-ha! You admit it!"_

" _I did not!"_

" _You just did!"_

" _In your dreams, pops!"_

 _Jason slung an arm around his daughter's shoulders, smiling. Jason kissed his baby girl's forehead._

" _I love you," he murmured before wrapping another arm around her. She leaned into the hold and lifted her own arms around him._

" _I love you too, Dad."_

" _Oh so you won't mind that I stole your bacon then? Great!"_

 _He laughed when his daughter yelped and moved to reclaim the beloved food._

" _No fair! Daaad!"_

* * *

That can't be Zee. That can't be her navy blazer. That can't be her auburn hair with the green strands on the front.

That can't be Jason's baby girl with two bullet wounds in her chest.

Jason fell to his knees beside the body.

The smaller form—a _child_ —moved and blinked up at him with watery eyes.

It was another little girl. She couldn't be older than three with large, light and pale, green eyes and brown hair cut to her shoulders.

Jason took off his helmet with horribly trembling hands and placed it to his left. He didn't say anything because he doubted he could around the lump in his throat.

The little girl burst into tears and launched herself at him, releasing her protector's body.

Jason noticed he was crying when a tear dripped off his chin.

Now he could see the face of the dead girl clearly, and he couldn't deny it anymore.

That was his baby girl.

Who died saving this baby girl.

Jason wrapped his arms around the wailing child and he screamed his pain through clenched teeth.

 _She's dead, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead._

 _Dead, dead, dead._

Voices were chanting in Jason's head. Voices Jason recognized as being the Pit's.

But the voices were right.

His little girl is dead.

It feels like someone punched a hole straight through his chest. It feels like someone is strangling him. It feels like someone grabbed Jason's heart and began squeezing with the intent on making it burst. It feels like someone ripped a hole in his heart and is still clawing away at it.

It feels like he's in hell.

The other girl—the one Jason's died saving—sobbed harder into his armor.

Jason couldn't help it. He moved the little girl to his left, grabbing Zee's body and cradling it against the right side of his body. He buried his face in her hair and began sobbing in its earnest into her hair. Jason's face moved down to her forehead, tears sliding down his face and falling onto Zaida's.

Nightwing arrived minutes later with police swarming in after him.

Seeing his little brother kneeling beside a body, Dick jogged over.

"Hood? Are you hurt? What's going… on… Oh, no." His gaze fell on the person Jason was holding, and Dick noticed Jason's shoulders—his whole body—trembling for the first time.

His niece.

His only niece.

He noticed a little girl was clinging tightly to Jason's chest, and Dick wondered what she was doing. Shouldn't the little girl have made it out by now?

"He killed her."

Then, lower, Jason added, " _She's gone._ "

* * *

A/N: This was a one-shot. I can't bring myself to add more.

Sorry.

You guys _are_ allowed to adopt it, if you want. I will be using Zaida, _alive_ , in another story I've got in the works, though.

 **OC info:**

 **Name: Zaida Piper Todd**

 **Age: 15**

 **Gender: Female**

 **Height: 5'5"**

 **Weight: 102 lbs**

 **Eye Color: Acidic Green**

 **Hair Color: Light Auburn**

 **Skin Color: Light Tan**

 **Facial Structure: High cheekbones, soft jawline**

 **Facial Appearance: Faint freckles on nose, small lips, delicate nose, long, thick eyelashes, thin eyebrows**

 **Bodily Appearance: Athletic build, full chest, slightly curved hips, long legs**

 **Siblings: Ashton Pascao Todd (Twin Brother) [Not in this fic]**

 **Parents: Jason Peter Todd [father], Danalis Chargin [mother]**

 **Background: Grew up in the LoA after being created in a lab. Jason proved worthy of the League, but refused to join, clearly, so Ra's decided to create an heir with or without Jason's permission. He took DNA samples and combined them with that of one of his personal assassins, one Danalis Chargin. When Ashton and Zaida were five, Danalis took her children and fled the League. She left them at one of her Jason's safehouses with all the necessary proof to convince Jason that the kids are his, along with a note to explain. Jason raised his kids, and introduced them to the family on their 6** **th** **birthday. Zaida's story isn't over yet, it just is for the purpose of this one-shot.**


End file.
